


Unleashed

by Iithril



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Having Faith, M/M, Sparring, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: Matt and Frank finally spar together, but it doesn't go as smoothly as planned.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75
Collections: Daredevil Bingo, Fratt Week





	Unleashed

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a little something for [Fratt Week](https://frattweek.tumblr.com/) 2, for the prompt "Faith". And it also fits the prompt _Spar_ from my Daredevil Bingo Card.
> 
> Many thanks to [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC) for organising this second Fratt Week. Yay for more Fratt content!
> 
> And as always, a million thanks, kudos and endless gratitude to my beta, [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum)!
> 
> Warning concerning the fic: Matt and Frank fight. There's not blood, no broken bone, but they still punch each other.

Karen had made them promise to invite her once they get serious about their training together. They had never really been  _ serious _ yet. They had teamed up to defeat bad guys, they had occasionally exchanged a few strikes, but that was all. Frank would tickle Matt to get him to smile when Matt was locked in his serious attorney mode, and Matt would play with Frank’s hair or throw him random projectiles when Frank was brooding. 

They held each other’s skills in high regard, and knew they were both pretty good fighters. Still, the idea of fighting each other had implied the awakening of too many things that they weren’t prepared to deal with. Their first fights, for instance.  _ Boom _ , and such.

It was also dangerous, from their point of view. As much as Frank joked about kicking Matt’s ass, he now cared more about the altar boy than he would like to admit. And Matt’s style was more about training alone in dark, underground rooms while rain was pouring outside. 

So when they had first encountered the official Avengers team on the field, totally by surprise, and when that crazy engineer – Stark, his face was all over the news and Matt knew some members of his legal team from law school – had proposed that they used the Avengers facilities to train, as he also wanted Matt’s expertise on accessibility on the compound, they had been reluctant to accept. 

Frank had been totally against it. He already had a hard time dealing with the fact that Matt was now patrolling with him, even when he wanted the man to  _ stay at home _ . He hated the attention, ran under a false ID and was trying to make peace with his past and not to let his demons roam too much at night. 

Matt had been against it at first. He didn’t want too much attention, and he was convinced eyes would be on them as soon as they set foot on the compound. The press people were like vultures around the Avengers, they would never let an occasion like this pass by. And people digging into Pete Castiglioni’s past was not a good idea. 

But then, Stark had added the accessibility factor. He was a prominent figure in the tech field, and it was true, according to Matt, that most of his facilities, buildings and accessories needed some adjustment if the genius wanted them to be accessible to disabled people like Matt. Adjustments that would be difficult for an able person to think of. Stark dealt with a lot of problems, as did most of the Avengers, but none of them were blind.

So Matt had been the first to poke around and ask some questions about the exact details of the offer. Would Stark provide them a way of accessing the compound without being seen, as Frank was frantically against any kind of public attention? Would there be recordings of them? Who would be responsible for the damages caused to the training facility? 

Foggy was the one who had thought of that question, as he knew how destructive his friend and his partner tended to be when they were fighting against  _ someone else _ . He didn’t want to think about the havoc they would wreak if they were to fight each other knives out.

Stark had been courteous and had answered all of their questions. First, he had demonstrated how he could take them to the compound without anyone knowing, as he was now talented at dodging the public eye. He said he had a wizard that could have helped him but was too petty to do so – which had made Frank laugh. A wizard? What next? Talking animals? – but he had designed a special kind of motorbike that could deploy what he called an invisibility sphere around – for his “two fossils”. 

At this point, Matt and Frank hadn’t even been trying to understand anything the man said, apart from the practical answers to their interrogations. 

There could be recordings of them, as an AI administered the compound, but they could easily disable it just with vocal instructions. As for the damages, Stark had joked they probably couldn’t do more than two fully-trained assassins that liked to fight each other in the nastiest way possible, two literal gods including one with a tendency to stab any living being close to him just for fun and a versatile giant that usually broke things to calm down. 

Matt and Frank had been a little worried about all of this, while discreetly questioning Stark’s mental health, but again, Stark had dismissed their concern by assuring them that they would have all the privacy they needed and absolutely no spectators if they didn’t want any. 

When Frank had wondered about the motivations of the man, he had been surprised to receive a clear, blunt answer. 

“I have the money and the power to offer you this. You’re part of what the Avengers are trying to do, perhaps at a lesser level, but you’re fighting for good anyway. You have knowledge that interests me, and the Avengers could benefit from seeing you fight and perhaps spar with you one day, if you’re willing to.” Stark had stopped to look at each one of them, including Foggy and Karen who had happened to be there when Stark had sneaked up in Nelson & Murdock’s office. 

“You might think that I have the upper hand, but from my point of view, you do. I won’t get answers to my questions if you decline my proposition, whereas you can still find a place to train here in Hell’s Kitchen anytime.”

Matt had asked for a few days to think about it, and Stark had offered them a week before giving him an answer. Before leaving, he had added that they could stop whenever they wanted to, and that even if they did agree to it, they could still change their minds later. 

That night, in Matt’s apartment, Frank had walked back and forth while Matt sat on the couch with a beer. They had argued, as Frank was convinced that it would inevitably draw attention to them, whereas Matt had thought of all the practical advantages they had been offered, and the fact they could withdraw at any time. 

Frank had ended up going outside for a walk to calm down, while Matt had climbed up on the roof and had listened to the night’s sounds, including Frank’s heartbeat, to make sure his partner was okay.

Matt had ended up dozing on the couch when Frank got back, wearing the cold urban scent of the streets and the salty smell of sweat mixed with the bitterness of blood – he had been punching something, or someone, to let his anger out. 

Frank had entered ever so silently, as he now knew the apartment as well as Matt. He had stopped to listen to the room, and had located Matt on the couch. He had slowly walked closer, while Matt had tried his best to keep his breathing even and to fake sleep – successfully, it had seemed to him, as Frank had hovered over him, his hands hesitating, before taking Matt into his arms with a sigh and transporting him to their bed. 

Matt hadn’t had any excuse to keep pretending to sleep at this point, particularly since Frank had almost tripped on something, so he had stretched a tiny bit and tried to give the impression he was waking up, hid a wince at the sound of his joints creaking along Frank’s while the man had been changing clothes, and asked why the special treatment, given how they had parted. 

The answer he had received made his heart ache. 

“Even if I’m a little bit mad at you, that doesn’t mean I should treat you bad,” Frank had started, his voice barely a whisper next to Matt’s ear. “And I don’t want to risk us parting like that. I have faith in your decisions, you know.” 

Matt had sensed the rage surge again, but mixed with a poignant sorrow. He hadn’t said anything, not knowing what words could mend such an abyss, and had instead opened his arms to offer a hug, if Frank wanted to accept it – something Frank didn’t do often. But that night, he had sighed, full of grief, resentment and gratitude, and had snuggled his large body into Matt’s embrace. 

The next morning, Frank had awoken to the scent of breakfast and Matt hadn’t mentioned Stark’s proposition. As Frank had been eating his scrambled eggs and sipping his coffee, he had raised an eyebrow, put his back against the chair and had asked Matt when they could go to the compound together. 

They hadn’t discussed it further after that. Frank had been quite tense when Stark sent them both a message – and how had he obtained their numbers, especially Frank’s? – with a location where they could take the motorbike, and a link to a messy calendar on which they could see times that the training area of the compound would be occupied. 

The names in the cases hadn’t made any sense to them, but they had given Frank a good laugh, as he had wondered who the hell could be “Point Break” or “Reindeer Games” and who had wanted such a code name.

As they had both promised to let her watch them spar, they had asked Karen when she would be available to come with them. Less than two hours later, she had managed to organise an interview with some of the Avengers, which would grant her exclusive information for an article that had already been validated by Ellison. Her boss hadn’t questioned how she had managed to get access to such valuable information and opportunities. He had learnt Karen was full of surprise and resources.

So, on a Thursday morning, after a successful trial two days earlier, and relative calm at Nelson & Murdock’s office, Foggy had put the “closed” panel on the door before rejoining Karen, who would drive them both to the compound – she had a press card if any question were to be raised. At the same time, Matt and Frank had headed to the location sent by Stark, which turned out to be a rather average parking lot. What wasn’t average was the motorbike discreetly parked in a corner, which had lit up as soon as Frank had put his hand on it. The trunk at the back of the vehicle had opened to reveal two black helmets, two pairs of gloves, and a key mounted on a mini Iron Man key ring. 

Both Matt and Frank had put their helmets on, and Frank had made a low whistle when the insides of his helmet lit up. Matt had been startled by the voice that started speaking to him, and had winced at the sounds of all the electronics contained within the helmet’s structure.

“Hello, Mr. Murdock. My name is Friday and I’ll be Mr. Castiglione’s and your assistant with the stealth vehicle you had been trusted with.” 

~°~

For now, Frank drove them to the compound while Matt mentally noted down all the things that needed to be improved on the helmet for him, from the volume of the voice to the sonic insulation – he could hear the helmet’s electronics buzzing, but the surrounding sounds of the streets and the traffic were terribly softened, even for him, which wasn’t ideal as he relied a lot on it. 

Judging from his heartbeat and his breathing, Frank was thoroughly enjoying the experience. The little laugh he had let out when the engine had fired up had already been a positive indicator, but the way he was now driving, weaving between the cars and way above the speed limit, was a perfect confirmation. 

As described with Friday’s words, the vehicle emitted a kind of a force field all around, which projected a continuous video feed based on the immediate environment to the external witnesses, disguising its riders. Frank had wondered if it had a thermal shield as well, as it was also covering the sounds of the engine and their voices.

Matt was always a bit tense whenever he was on a motorized vehicle he couldn’t control by himself. He trusted Frank with all his heart, and that was the only thing that kept his breathing even and his heart rate steady. Instead of focusing on all the potential accidents they could have each time Frank dodged a car at the last second, Matt turned his thoughts towards the upcoming fight. 

He wanted to win. Let’s be honest, he didn’t like losing, even to someone like Frank, and victory had a special flavour with him. And he also wanted to make the fight memorable and erase the bitterness of the argument they had had. 

Frank wouldn’t have his guns – not for a first fight, as they didn’t know what the compound could exactly offer. But he had already beaten the shit out of Matt while in a frenzy, so victory wasn’t assured. 

Matt smiled to himself. It was going to be a good fight. He had learned new tricks and since Frank was forcing him to care about himself more regularly, he had become more flexible and slightly stronger too. 

He couldn’t wait to finally arrive at the compound. 

~°~

The gigantic gate in front of the Avengers facility opened as soon as the motorbike came close to it. It was covered in cameras, buzzing discreetly, but Frank didn’t slow down to look at them. He took the turns leading up to the building at full speed, making the engine roar, and stopped sharply in front of the door, but very smoothly so that Matt wouldn’t be thrown off balance. 

Matt dismounted first, took off his helmet with a relieved sigh and waited for Frank to park the motorbike. The shield turned off by itself and silence came again to their ears when the engine finally shut down. 

Frank took off his own helmet, and admired Matt’s hair for a second. The disheveled look suited him. And he was about to get way more disheveled than by just taking off a helmet. 

A door panel swiftly opened in front of them and let out Stark, dressed casually, nothing like the fancy costume he had sported when he had visited Nelson and Murdock’s office. They exchanged handshakes and Stark guided them to the training area while explaining all of its possibilities. 

There were two spaces, one enclosed and one outside. On the outside one, there were military obstacle courses, as several of the Avengers were former military – and Frank raised an interested eyebrow at this information. There was also a large open field for those who wanted to train with a bit of fresh air. 

Stark went to the enclosed area and they followed him. Matt tilted his head in every direction, sometimes ever so discreetly wincing or smiling. Frank wasn’t missing any of it. 

Both Matt and Frank let out a whistle when they entered the training room. At first, it looked like an average training room: there was an area with several workout machines, punching bags and an impressive collection of weights. 

But when Stark caressed a panel at the back of the room, the whole wall pivoted and disappeared to reveal what looked like an arena to Frank. 

The walls were covered with a thick, black cushioning material, and so was the floor. The ceiling was high enough to allow big jumps. Stark showed them, beaming with pride, how the lighting could be changed with just a few adjustments on the control panel or with a vocal command. How grips hidden all over the room could be revealed if needed. How the door of the armoury opened – only by Stark for now, they didn’t have the necessary credentials yet. 

And the armoury made Frank’s eyes shine. There was a huge variety of blades of every kind, and some metallic things he couldn’t identify. But what interested him was all the guns. There were some he had never seen before, and if they were as efficient as they looked, Frank was going to have a lot of fun with them. 

But Stark closed the armoury when the sound of a vehicle reached them, and they all went outside to welcome Karen and Foggy. Karen explained shamelessly she was primarily there to witness Frank and Matt spar, to which Stark assured her it was understandable, and that she could get automatic access to the entrance door if she wanted one. 

By mutual agreement, Frank and Matt let Stark speak with Karen and Foggy without interruption – Karen had already got out her notebook and was discreetly scribbling down some of the details Stark gave her. She had come to have some fun, but if she could gather some intel while at it, it was for the best. 

They both took off their shoes, and Matt started to stretch thoroughly, for once enjoying the sound of his joints loosening. Frank completed a few stretches before running in a circle, pacing in the room, jumping on his feet and assessing the space. Matt witnessed his method, smiling. He didn’t need that, his senses had already provided him a clear analysis of the room. He hated that all the panels were buttonless, as there was nothing to indicate to him where he was supposed to touch if he needed something. Other than that, he had to admit it was a nice upgrade from the old sparring room of his dad’s boxing club. It didn’t have the smells and all the memories and presences, but for fighting? It would do. 

Matt started to warm up more seriously on the punching bag, and Frank joined him right after finishing his tenth circle of the room. The sounds of their panting and voiceless shouting filled the space, and they absentmindedly noticed Karen and Foggy coming and sitting down in a corner. 

“Should we get to it?” Frank asked after a dozen of minutes spent on the punching bag. 

Matt took the time to finish his strike sequence before answering. 

“How many rounds do you want to do?” he enquired. They hadn’t talked about the sparring much beyond the practical questions, about the time and the equipment they would need. They had both agreed that for a first spar, they wouldn’t take any kind of protection except for mouth guards – it would be pretty silly to chip a tooth with only an amical sparring. 

Frank turned to him and let out a deep sound to indicate he was thinking about it. Then, he answered simply, “How about only one? End of the fight…”

Matt cut him immediately. “Fifteen seconds spent on the floor, or forfeit. I have to work tomorrow.”

Frank shrugged to mark his agreement, then went to put in the mouth guard he had prepared for the occasion. Matt owned old ones, still in their boxes, and Frank had had a fun time preparing his. Matt had found that the sound of Frank trying to speak with the mouth guard was hilarious. It had been a nice evening. 

Matt put his own mouth guard in, took off his glasses and put them in his bag, then placed himself in the center of the room. As Frank joined him, Stark entered, arms full with a couple of chairs and followed by a short, athletic man. Together, they set up the chairs for Karen, Foggy and the two of them, and only when they sat did Matt finally raise his guard and brace for the incoming fight. 

Frank took a bit of time to turn around him, hands down, his whole body relaxed. He knew Matt could predict the very second he would attack if he wasn’t extremely careful about the signals he sent, so he focused on being as lenient as possible. Matt simply rotated slightly in rhythm, and Frank noticed he was moving his feet within the triangle shape of the Arnis fighting style. 

When he spotted the smallest sign of relaxation in Matt’s shoulders, Frank hurled forward and launched himself. He started simple, with a couple of punches – direct, circular, uppercut, shouting at every movement to keep breathing. Matt parried, but Frank didn’t allow him the time to counter properly. He forced the man to back off, one foot after the other. 

Matt broke the rhythm by suddenly dodging a direct punch and swinging his legs into Frank’s. He fell on the floor, but so did Frank, and Matt didn’t wait for him to stand up again. He jumped on him and deployed all his energy and ingenuity to keep him on the floor. He wanted that victory.

~°~

Karen couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Judging by Stark’s reaction, he was impressed as well. He was exchanging hand signs with the man sitting next to him, who sported large tattoos on his arm and had short, light brown hair. 

She cast a look at Foggy, who was doing his best not to look as flabbergasted as he probably felt. He had witnessed Daredevil fight, but had only heard of Frank’s fury while fighting. Karen had experienced that fury, even if it hadn’t been directly directed towards her. 

They had two very distinctive fighting styles. Matt was a little shorter, but he was also more agile, so he kept throwing himself at Frank, clinging to him, jumping in the air and kicking his legs. It was a flamboyant demonstration, but Karen could see how easy he was going with some of his punches, how he carefully avoided the most fragile ribs, the nose or the knees. 

Frank was a titan. He had what looked like a loose guard, but he was hyper aware of any movement coming from Matt. His punches were surprisingly fast and held strength, even though he too was careful. His feet rarely left the floor to perform high kicks like his partner, but whenever Matt was coming close enough for Frank to cling to him, Frank used his knees and even tried a couple of locks, without luck. 

Karen was happy they had thought of her for their first sparring, and grateful that Stark had offered them such an appropriate space to train. 

She shot a quick glance at her watch, and hid her surprise when she realised the fight had been going for less than five minutes. Both Frank and Matt were sweating now, but their movements hadn’t lessened in intensity or in speed. They seemed to have found a pace to test their endurance, and at random times they tried something new to disrupt their opponent. 

~°~

Frank wasn’t thinking anymore. He rarely thought during fights anyway. Thinking while fighting was dangerous. 

But now? He was torn. He tried not to think, tried to let the frenzy of the fight possess him entirely, let his vision go dark and sharp, his fists find their target and tear down his enemy. But he couldn’t. As much as a part of him screamed and howled to tear apart the fragile man that was defying him, he still held his punches, left his locks with an opportunity for Matt to get out, and avoided the most painful areas to hit. 

He had fought Matt before, a long time ago. He had tied him in ropes, beaten the shit out of him to make him shut up. He had shot a bullet directly at his face, having faith in his shooting talent but deep inside praying that it wouldn’t kill the man. 

It had done something to Daredevil. He had been free of the man for several nights, before he had come again to take his revenge. 

Frank avoided a vicious blow to his left side, grunted at the effort, breathed, prepared his counter. He had forgotten all about the people watching them, barely a nuisance sometimes, a glimpse out of the corner of his eyes. 

Matt was fighting, but not with all his might. Not yet. Frank hadn’t thrown him in at the deep end yet. He intended to. 

Another punch. Grabbing his legs, throwing the man on the floor. Frank took a fist to his jaw, clenched his teeth, shook his head, not letting his vision get troubled too much. Blood rushed to his ears and all he could hear was thunder. 

He needed to break the pace that had been established between them. He tried to grab Matt, but the man was like an eel, always escaping his embrace. He received a blow to the back of his left leg and knelt down. A roll forward, back on his feet, he struck, once, twice, hitting Matt in the ribs, the stomach. 

He roared as Matt stepped on his toes, grabbed his arm and threw him against a wall before charging him. His body took over, placing his shoulder directly into Matt’s diaphragm, and he heard a cough over the rumble. 

He jumped back by instinct when his shoulder registered a high pain and became dull, releasing Matt. The part of him that was thirsty for blood was urging him to make his enemy pay for this offence, but he reined it in – he knew better now. He just needed to pin Matt down for fifteen seconds, and it would be over. 

He flexed his fingers, which slowly came back to life with a tingling sensation running all under his skin. He prepared himself, biting down on his mouth guard, and let Matt come close, closer, even closer. 

He tried to reach at him again, but Matt was playing with him, keeping his body close but unreachable, always stopping his hands before he could grab, with constant contact, and that drove Frank mad. 

So he entered the dance. It was a long time since he had fought like this, for this long against a single person. It was a long time since someone trusted him enough to spar with him like this, with almost no protection, with nothing but trust and might. 

His lips slowly curved upward and he broke Matt’s guard, hugged him tightly, strong enough to make the man breathless but with special care not to break any ribs. 

They engaged in a careful sequence of steps. Frank was trying to find an opening to make Matt fall to the floor, and Matt didn’t want to, understandably. They clung to each other as if they were both about to drown, but their feet were light and swift, a desperate tango. 

Frank growled at the challenge, then let out an uncontrolled cry of surprise as he felt himself fall – Matt had managed to slip under Frank’s center of gravity and had thrown him on the ground, following him closely. 

For now, Matt had the upper hand, but it wasn’t going to last. With a lock of his legs and a twist of his hips, Frank turned around and rotated, switching his position with Matt’s. He blocked the blows coming for him, managed to avoid his ears being smacked but jumped backward when Matt’s fingers came for his eyes. He grabbed those hands, but felt Matt’s leg pressing against his flank and rising up towards his head. 

When Matt closed his legs around Frank’s neck to immobilise him and force him to lay down, something snapped into Frank’s mind. He wasn’t going to be put on the ground like an animal about to be speared. 

He twisted the fingers he was holding, thunder raging in the distance. His vision narrowed, but he found himself an opening as Matt eased the pressure of his thighs on Frank’s throat. 

He went fast, violent, swapping his hold on Matt’s fingers for one on his elbow, locking it until Matt was squirming under him, throwing his legs at him without managing to hit him properly, pulling his whole body closer to the lock in a vain attempt to ease the pain. 

Frank grunted as he felt a knee hitting his ribs, his hips. His ears made a stringent ringing when the same knee touched them. The squirming became more desperate as Frank added pressure and challenged the joints with his large hands. 

When a joint popped under his hands, Frank blinked and released Matt immediately, afraid of what he had done. All he could hear was his frantic panting, but Matt was holding his arm close to him, his face turned down. 

After the thunder came the utter, eerie silence and it shook Frank to the core. He still was high on adrenaline, so he didn’t feel the pain of all the blows he had taken, but if his body matched Matt’s, he was going to have a hard day. Just on his arms, skin was turning blueish. 

Frank didn’t spare a moment to look at the spectators he remembered, from a lucid corner of his mind, were there. He inched forward, his hands open, palms up, too afraid to ask anything, but still consumed by remorse. He had lost control again, and he had almost broken Matt’s arm in his fury. This is why he didn’t want to fight the man. He goddamn knew he was going to hurt him and he didn’t want that anymore. 

His guilt was appeased by the sight of Matt’s smile – triumphant and wide. Frank saw the man hide a wince when he moved his arm, but his voice wasn’t shaking when he whispered, “I have to admit, I forgot you were such a fighter, Frank.” He took a ragged breath, as high as Frank was, and continued, still whispering. “Seventeen seconds. The victory is yours!” 

Frank didn’t want this victory. It had this bitterness, this metallic taste, like blood. His real victory was that Matt was still alive and with all bones intact, and he hated that it had cost him so much. 

Matt must have sensed his trouble, because he put his good hand on Frank’s thigh and pressed gently, reassuring him. He still wore his smile, and Frank now knew him well enough to know he was genuinely happy for him, and certainly not angry.

He helped Matt get to his feet, and that seemed to break the spell that held their audience, because Karen and Foggy rushed to help them both walk to the chairs. Matt sat down heavily, still holding his arm close to him, but he tentatively stretched it without making a sound and his range of motion didn’t seem impaired. 

The man accompanying Stark appeared next to Frank, startling him. He cast a look at the man, and noticed he was holding a fancy looking ice bag with the Stark Industries logo on it. 

“It’s, uh, it’s an ice bag, but with some painkillers. Won’t stop the bruises, but it’ll help with the pain.”

Frank hummed his thanks and grabbed the bag before applying it to his sorest ribs. The sounds of ice breaking and whistling came to his ears, and the pain receded slowly. He let out a relieved sigh and the man caught it. 

“See? Tony made them for me and Nat, whenever we would beat our ass too hard.” He laughed, before extending his hand for Frank to shake and adding, “I’m Clint, Clint Barton. Nice to meet you, Frank.” 

Frank accepted the offer and gave him a vigorous handshake, feeling the calluses on Clint’s fingers. They weren’t calluses made from handling too many guns; Frank knew those from personal experience. But whatever the man was doing, he was practicing a lot. 

Clint left him and went outside of the building, humming a song to himself. Frank let out another sigh, focused a few seconds on his pulse and noticed with a hint of satisfaction it had gone down fast. It was now close to his usual pace, but perhaps the painkillers had something to do with that. 

He turned his attention back to Matt, who had been given the same kind of ice packs. He had chosen, like Frank, to apply one to his ribs and another to his elbow. He had lifted his shirt and Frank couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt at the sight of the bruises that covered Matt’s skin like paint. He repeated to himself it was nothing but a sparring match, and that Matt had agreed to being hit, but there still was this annoying little voice insisting he had hurt him. 

Matt must have caught him mumbling to himself, because he turned his head to him and smiled again. He slowly moved the chair closer to Frank and asked, his tone a bit teasing, “So, who has the bluest ribs? Show me yours, come on.” 

His joke shut down the little voice in Frank’s head, and he cheerfully lifted his shirt. He wasn’t as bruised as Matt, but sported a rather impressive blue spot near his clavicle, where one of Matt’s high kicks had got him. 

Karen came closer with Matt’s bag, followed by Foggy, and after searching in it they passed both Frank and Matt a bottle of water. Frank gulped his down avidly, but still watched Matt’s every movement. He drank easily, not too fast but still like someone who had just made a great effort. When he had finished, he turned to Frank again, and the irony of the situation struck Frank. 

He was worried for his partner. He had hurt him, and lost control. But, out of the two of them, the most worried was and probably always would be Matt. He had this capacity to  _ care _ , and even though he could be an annoying prick sometimes, especially when he was trying to prove a point to Frank, he still devoted all of his senses to the man, to sense how he was doing, how he felt, what he could do to help him. 

All that Frank had ever done was hurt people, but Matt was showing him another way, showing him another path to tread. Blindly placing his trust, his faith in him, again and again, relentless in his hope. Frank appreciated Matt’s trust, in a way he couldn’t fathom, and he had made an oath to himself not to ever take it for granted.

~°~

“So how do you feel, really? Now that Karen’s too far away to hear you.” 

They were back at Matt’s apartment. Karen had driven them home, safely hidden in the back of her car. She had profusely complimented them on their fight and thanked them for “inviting” her. Foggy had done the rest of the talking, gushing about the Avengers facility and how technologically advanced it was. He had also stated with a half-hearted laugh that he didn’t want, for anything in the world, to get between Frank and Matt if they ever fought each other again, although he would happily trust them to protect him. 

Now, they were sitting on Matt’s couch, under a blanket, each with a cup of herbal tea. Matt was putting arnica gel on Frank’s bruises, feeling the good kind of exhaustion in his bones and relishing the warmth of the blanket and of Frank’s arms around him. 

“I would say… I can go to work tomorrow.” Matt answered, hovering his arnica-coated fingers over Frank’s ribs and enjoying the ever so slight shivers of the skin under his touch. 

He laughed when Frank shoved him with one knee. 

“You gotta give me more information here, Red. I heard that joint pop when I won.” 

Matt heard the bitterness in Frank’s tone, and knew he would have to address it at some point. He finished applying the gel first and reached for the tube again, but Frank caught it before him and grabbed his hand. 

“It’s alright, Frank, really. Yeah, my joint popped, but so do yours when you get up every morning, and it doesn’t mean you’re hurt. All my bones are intact, and I might have bruises, but that’s normal when you spar with someone with barely any protection, right?” Matt kept his tone down, not wanting to seem patronising. 

He received only a grunt in response. Frank was almost as good as he was at blaming himself for things. So he opened his arms silently, let Frank snuggle in, and with effort, and a bit of pain that he hid immediately, he took him to their bed. 

Sleep would ease the man’s soul, and Matt would be there to deal with the aftermath of possible nightmares. He still was genuinely happy Frank had been willing to spar with him, and full of admiration at how far Frank had come. There would be many other fights from now on. Someday, Frank’s wounds would heal, as would his own. They were both a bit broken, still fighting with dark memories and insidious voices hidden in the corners of their minds, but at least they were together. 

“Have a little faith in yourself.” Matt whispered before drifting off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment and enjoyed your reading, let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you~


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